


at maximum capacity

by cbstrike



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, there's only one bed, you know what they say when, you need to have sex in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbstrike/pseuds/cbstrike
Summary: The smell of Narciso filled his nostrils as he moved to kiss Robin’s throat, deaf now to rational thought that was pleading: not her, you idiot! Anyone but her!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	at maximum capacity

**Author's Note:**

> literally just porn

“Two single rooms.” Cormoran said before the concierge even uttered a syllable. There was typing and then a grimace.

“Sorry, we’ve only got the one.” He said, giving them a swift look and Cormoran thought he was trying to read what they were to each other. “But it’s a twin.”

He looked at Robin who looked at him. She shrugged.

“Yeah, okay.” He accepted the last available room.

He didn’t really feel any type of way about it. It was a twin, and they were adults, and just because two single adults who are in some sort of unacknowledged mutual understanding are going to spend the night in a single room at a Travelodge together doesn’t mean anything.

There was only one bed.

“I’ll order an extra one.” Cormoran offered immediately, bounding for the phone.

“It’s fine.” said Robin. “Honestly, Cormoran.”

She wanted to say that they were adults, wanted to maybe crack some joke that she’ll keep her hands to herself. But he seemed agitated that the concierge made a mistake. And to allude to their current predicament was only embarrassing.

“Front desk?” he said into the receiver anyway. “Yeah. Room 112. Have you got an extra bed?”

Thinking that Cormoran was going to do what he was going to do, Robin headed for the bathroom.

There were no available beds. Somehow, they ended up in the one Travelodge in the whole of England that’s at maximum capacity.

Cormoran was still fully clothed on the very edge of the bed, trying not to think about the soft trickle of water from the bathroom and imagining what Robin was doing in there.

And then he realised that if he could hear her, she’ll be able to hear him.

And his stomach churned with mild anxiety and a mixture of late-night coffee and the shepherd’s pie he had for dinner.

He considered the possibility of just not taking a dump that night, but the very thought made his bowels churn in protest.

He left the room to do his business elsewhere.

Robin should’ve brought more respectable pyjamas, she thought, looking at herself in a tight-fitting spaghetti strapped top and short lounge shorts that were the only nightwear she had in her kit bag. She had picked it because it was comfortable and lightweight. And the possibility of sharing a room with anyone didn’t really cross her mind.

She’ll also have to sleep with her bra on, she lamented. She can’t exactly flash her work partner.

Whatever, it’s only for one night.

She put her toiletries back in her pouch, bottle of Narciso last. And like reflex, she sprayed some on her neck.

Robin was already laid on her side of the bed, scrolling on her phone when Cormoran returned. She didn’t even acknowledge that he’d come back. Talking at all seemed taboo somehow. As though if they just didn’t talk to each other, it would be as though they were in separate rooms.

He tried not to think about how he liked how the skin of her back was practically exposed. Liked, too, that he knew the sorts of clothes she liked to wear to bed. He imagined her in oversized t-shirts and thick joggers, just covering up as much of her skin.

He headed for the bathroom before the twitch in his cock became a source of embarrassment.

He needed sleep, and a cold shower will not help him fall so easily to sleep, but it felt crucial just then.

Robin felt the dip of the bed as Cormoran sat at the edge on his side.

She looked over her shoulder, saw the expanse of his back, hunched. Possibly dealing with his prosthesis.

She felt a jolt up her spine that she can’t quite define.

All she was thinking about then was, _so this is happening, huh?_

By ‘this’ of course, she meant just the simple fact of two mates of the opposite sex sharing a bed together.

She went back to her phone, letting him get on with it.

He wanted to say goodnight, at the very edge of the bed, back to her, staring at the bathroom door that was his only view. But he knew anything short of pretending they were in separate rooms would be dangerous ground.

The duvet they were sharing was rather short. Or maybe Robin was hogging most of it, because it stretched across the single bed they were sharing and he wasn’t comfortably getting enough of it.

But to shift even infinitesimally closer to the center of the bed was out of the question.

He pushed the lot off him, resigned to just shiver for the rest of the night. Maybe staying stupidly cold will distract him from things and thoughts that could potentially cause him to, er, _overheat_.

Robin laid on her back, staring at the ceiling. Cormoran’s unmoving back to her so large and still, he might have been a wall.

She doesn’t at all mind that they were on the same bed. She thought she would mind, actually. But he might be the only man she knew that she’d never felt objectified by.

Indeed, she isn’t really sure if she was even his type, physically. She knew he prefers very beautiful, haughty-looking women with impeccable bone structures and her own baby cheeks are a source of annoyance for her.

Far from minding that they were currently sharing a bed together, she found that she actually kind of _likes_ it. Why is that?

 _Saves on agency expenses?_ She gave a snort, making herself laugh.

Cormoran could feel Robin shifting about on her side of the bed. He wished she wouldn’t, bringing home the fact that they were currently sharing one bed.

He heard her snort, thoroughly tempted to look. But he knew that if he so much as looked over his shoulder, he’s going to banish himself to sleep in the tub.

Was she dreaming? Does she move about a lot when she sleeps?

An image of her splayed on the bed, with her tight top and her mouth slack, sleeping prettily— _Christ_.

He thought of less arousing images. Pat, maybe, splayed on the bed, e-cig hanging from her mouth.

He felt something brush from his lower backside up, and he undulates involuntary from the sensation. _What the bloody fuck_.

He wonders how he can build a wall of pillows between them without having to look her way, not wanting any intimate image of her to plague his mind.

There’s a sofa at the reception area downstairs, he can sleep there. If the keys to the Land Rover is in Robin’s purse that was currently in his line of sight, he can sleep there instead. Anywhere would be more preferable than sleeping next to a Robin he’s not permitted to touch.

It was an accident, the back of Robin’s hand brushing up against Cormoran’s back when she stretched. But he moved, almost cat-like upon contact and her mind conjured up the number 27. She had counted just the other night, frustrated by the vibrator she bought that failed to do the one thing it was built for.

Feeling comfortable on the soft bed, and safe with Cormoran, and horny from not having had a shag in twenty-seven months, she asked herself _why not?_ Why not Cormoran? Why not here? Why not now?

It was obviously not that simple. Not even between two people who were single and who liked each other loads. If it were simple, she suspected they’d have gone for it long before now.

 _Ugh,_ she rolled her eyes, too worked up to entertain complicated thoughts. Why does she have to weigh her entire future every time she considered Cormoran as more than a business partner and platonic pal? Why can’t she just, for effin’ once, think about the present?

The facts were, presently, that they were sharing one bed, that they were unattached, that they were adults, that they liked each other. More immediately, there was an itch within her that was directly related to Cormoran being an arm’s length away from her on a soft bed.

Just as she knew Cormoran wouldn’t initiate what she herself was close to initiating, she also knew Cormoran wouldn’t deny her if she made her intentions clear.

A tugging of his shirt from behind was all it took.

Cormoran twisted around to face Robin, who had moved to the very middle of the bed now with a sort of look on her face that he never thought he’d ever see: want. A split second later, he’s devoured her mouth, he’s half-laid on top of her, trying to better settle between her legs.

There wasn’t any thinking, or if there was, it was only Robin’s body writhing underneath him, Robin’s breasts pressed against his chest, Robin’s fingers clawing at his sides, Robin’s tongue swirling against his own that were occupying his mind.

Somewhere in his lust-addled brain, the sensible part of him was screaming this was a bad idea. No shit it was a bad idea, but Jesus fuck can’t he not be plagued with responsibilities for one goddamn second? Can’t he just enjoy what he’d been permitted to? Can’t he just give his thoroughly excited cock a treat the poor thing had been deprived of for over two years?

The smell of Narciso filled his nostrils as he moved to kiss Robin’s throat, deaf now to rational thought that was pleading _not her, you idiot! Anyone but her!_

God she needed to be touched. She quite liked his mouth on her skin and all but holy christ. She only had the presence of mind not to, you know, start rubbing up on his thigh, but god she hoped he wasn’t over thinking.

His hand squeezed a breast and she felt his satisfied groan against her neck. That was gratifying, but as far as what she needs right now, didn’t do anything for her. She was thinking of maybe just asking, but talking might burst their bubble. And she hasn’t ever really asked before. Matt kind of just did whatever and sometimes it was good, sometimes it wasn’t and that was just life, wasn’t it?

She wiggled out of her bottoms, and even against her mouth he groaned that she had done that.

He pulled away from kissing her face to look down at her naked from the waist down and she hoped to god he wouldn’t ask if it was alright because while it was very, very alright, being given the option will only trigger her mind to think and god was that the last thing she wanted to do.

“Are—?” he asked anyway, in sort of like a grunt.

And she nodded, “Yeah.” she panted, taking his large hand and pressing it between her legs.

He gave an involuntary thrust, so aroused at feeling her already wet on the first press of his fingers against her folds. He looked at her face underneath him, sighing at the pleasure of being touched. They caught each other’s eye and she shook her head infinitesimally, telling him plain that this was not the night for thinking or talking or worrying and well, good enough for him!

He heaved off her, settling beside, and she hooked fingers on his waistband, pulling it down, his cock springing free. And she licks her palms and that’s when he first curses, and then again at the first pull she does from base to tip.

“Fuck.” he grunts, savoring the sensation, trying not to think that this is Robin right now even though how the hell could he ignore it when she’s right next to him, smelling of the scent he picked?

She gave a grunt, hand flying to his between her legs, positioning it to where she needs it.

And it’s so arousing to know this about her, that she prefers it a little to the side, that it might be too much if it’s direct?

“Like that?” he dares speak.

“Yeah.” she sighs, eyes closing to the sensation.

_Oh christ_ , she thinks, hand forgetting she was supposed to be reciprocating, concentrating on the way the tips of his finger was gently circling exactly where she needed, building up the pleasure her overpriced vibrator couldn’t manage.

She tried not to think of the Cormoran of it all, even though how could she ignore it when she wouldn’t even dream of going this far this fast with anyone else?

Soon enough she knew she needs more, opening her eyes to look at him whose expression was stormy and whose eyes were on his hand between her legs. She saw him lick his bottom lip and she is barely thinking beyond sensations and bodies. Having just another warm body next to her, fingers that were not her own, really brought to home that even her, with all her hang-ups about sex, can feel frustrated too when going far too long without it.

She arches her face to kiss his mouth and it seems to catch him by surprise, pulling away for a stunned moment before kissing her back again, removing his hands to cradle her back, slipping under her top.

“Do you have—?” she asks, panting for breath in the interlude of their kissing.

He shook his head. _Fuck._ But then he promises, “I’ll use my mouth.”

She nods.

This is not a Robin that he knows, Cormoran contemplated, staring at her propped on elbows and looking at him expectant and impatient as he positioned himself between her legs. Even in moonlight he saw her cheeks and neck were red, her mouth swollen and agape from their fierce kissing.

He must be imagining it, or maybe it has infused every crevice of her skin, because he could smell a hint of Narciso even as he started kissing down the inside of her thighs. The side of her mouth curls up, liking what he was doing.

God she’s so sexy. Even before he indulges he hopes this will not be his one and only feast.

He keeps his eyes on hers, coaxing her limbs over his shoulders.

He couldn’t help bucking against the mattress just from the smell of her. Sweet musk of sex and skin, so bloody arousing his desperation for relief was almost painful.

He parted her folds with two thumbs, lips and mouth working, kissing almost the same way he kissed her mouth.

They groan together, him with intoxication for the pleasure she’s getting.

His strong arm pins her undulating hips, the other he manoeuvres, wetting his fingers with his mouth, the tip of his middle finger rubbing at her opening.

“Ohhh,” she breathes, one arm propping her with an elbow to see what he was doing, the other hand in his hair, pleasantly raking through his scalp, pleasantly tugging at his hair.

He presses inside and she mewls. And even around one digit she was gloriously wet and tight and hot.

“Jesus,” he groans, face still against her cunt, mosty in disbelief but also chastising himself that he didn’t have condoms. Tonight of all bloody nights.

She utters an incoherent word at the sweet stretch of two fingers inside of her. A mingle of ‘Christ’ and ‘Cormoran’ that rational her would’ve been embarrassed over forever. But the obscene sounds of wet tongues and wet fingers and her wet cunt really was demolishing all her inhibitions.

 _How does he know_? she thinks barely lucidly, “Ohh!” sobbing loud as she felt his fingers curl up within her, adding a pressure only once—on accident—her lover of ten years had managed. She looked down at his head still between her legs, at her own hips slowly and rhythmically bucking up at him, with minds of their own. _How does he know?_ she asks again, throwing her head back in the building up of intense ecstasy. She is wondering how he could possibly know the secrets of her body, the keys to her own sexual pleasure that she, herself, barely even understood.

“Oh, Cormoran,” she cries almost in awe, but mostly blissed out now. Thinking maybe she wouldn’t mind if there were no condoms, so close now, so needy now to come, to be filled.

“Fuck!” she keens, whimpering when two fingers became three, gripping too hard at his hair, pressing his head against her, her hips still in that languid bucking, wanting nothing to change. God don’t change anything. Fuck, don’t stop. “Don’t stop.”

Her legs quiver against both sides of his head, only stopping herself from slamming it close, trapping his head between her glorious legs. He thought he wouldn’t mind if it happened, thought he wouldn’t mind at all if she snapped his neck like this.

He keeps the gentle thrusting of his fingers in her cunt, though lifting his head off her clit to watch how her shoulder trembled and her face contorts as though about to bawl in utter ecstacy. Fuck she’s so sexy, wishing he could be on top of her, wishing she was clenching against his cock instead of his fingers.

He laps at her bundle of nerves again, and she makes another sound between gasp and sob. Another one, he thinks. Because she is that beautiful and that sexy and that delicious.

There was nothing but the sounds of wet and her low mewling and her panting breath in this dark room, and it soon becomes, for that fleeting moment, his entire world.

Robin felt electrified, and maybe a little dirty, but not in a bad way. _Twice_ , she thinks. Oh my christ, _twice_. Usually she’d be lucky to get off _once_.

She claws for Cormoran to climb back up, and he does, kissing up her leg, wiping his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He falls next to her, and she straddles him immediately, devouring his mouth and they both groan as she tastes herself on his mouth. She doesn’t mind, never really minded. There were a lot of things about sex she minded, but not really her own taste. Not when her brain was too blissed out in the aftermath of _two_ orgasms and very intent on showing some gratitude for the cause of it.

She kisses his jaw, his throat, pulling up his shirt to rake her fingers against his thick swath of body hair. She wriggles down, understanding now how women could want cocks in their mouths at all. She never did before. But now she did. Boy, did she ever.

“This okay?”

Cormoran had room to be mildly embarrassed at the mix of moan and whimper that came out of his mouth as he felt her mouth around the tip of his cock. “Jesus, motherfuck—” he exclaimed, looking down at Robin whose cheeks were hollowed out as she sucked, and then she let him go with a lewd pop.

“Don’t touch my head.” she breathed, hands working him up and down.

He nods in acknowledgment.

She put her mouth to him again, and then let him go again.

“And don’t shove it up.” She added.

He shook his head. “I won’t.”

She took him in again, hands in tandem now with her mouth.

“God, Rob—” he grunts, looking down at her bobbing head, one hand pulling his own hair, the other digging into the sheets.

She pulls completely off him again and he whimpers.

“Don’t come in my mouth.” She warns before resuming immediately.

Jesus holy mother of fuck! It was so arousing, he damn nearly came.

“Robin, Robin.”

She could feel he was close. Some wanton part of her wanted to get him at the very, very edge, just to see how much restraint he could muster. But she also didn’t want semen in her mouth.

She lets him go then, laughing a little, feeling mildly ridiculous at how fast and how far and how much this night ended up being. She tried to fight against rational thought rearing its ugly head.

He was bucking up in the pumping of her hand, his large hand flailing for the tissue box that was just in his reach.

 _Good man_ , she thinks, casual now in how she was working him, eager for the bathroom and then bed.

She takes two, and he comes right as she puts it over him that she wonders if he could actually control it.

He let out a deep breath and knew he was done.

She hopped off his thigh and sauntered off to the bathroom.

_What the fuck just happened?_ Cormoran asked himself, trying to catch his breath, hand still in his hair, looking at the closed bathroom door where Robin now was. He could hear the soft echoes of water, his imagination picturing what she was doing then. The way the water splashed conjured up an image of her maybe washing herself, his cock giving a feeble twitch of interest.

He was, of course, done for the night. Possibly for the week now, so pleasantly wrung out. If two-year celibacies often ended with such an explosion, maybe it would be worth it.

When Robin stepped out she was wearing fresh knickers and smelled only of soap.

“Need help?” she asked.

He didn’t, really, but she extended her hand and he took it, sitting upright the bed.

It was only a few hops to the bathroom.

“It’s slippery—” she started.

“Nope,” he insisted. “I’ll manage.”

And he did.

Robin had a vague memory of lying down on the bed, intending to wait for Cormoran to be done with the bathroom so they could maybe talk. But she was just so comfortable and content and also exhausted from their long work day that she conked out almost as soon as her head hit her pillow.

She woke up with Cormoran’s arm heavy over her side, spooning her against him. It was nice, she thinks. It’s been awhile. And she likes him a lot, and likes the feeling of being wanted a lot, too.

She squeezes the hand that was over her, and she was rewarded with a kiss on the shoulder.

“Morning,” Cormoran murmurs against her skin.

“Morning,” she replies, smiling, twisting so her head faced him a little. She arches up to kiss him and he meets him the rest of the way. “Thanks for last night.”

He grins down at her and she thinks that’s the friendliest she’s ever seen him. Although he ought to be, she supposed, after last night.

“Thanks, too.” He says in a whisper, grin on his face.

She lifts his arm off her. Sitting up on the bed, arms around him for a hug. “I really needed that.”

Cormoran chuckled, with the things that came to him as response. He wanted to say, _anytime_ , or _my pleasure_ —both sentiments he wholeheartedly meant. But there were other things he also wanted to say. Like how he enjoyed it, enjoys this now, how he’d been daft over-thinking things because this felt so good and so right he wished they’d been together like this the entire time.

They pulled away and he cupped her grinning face in his hand. He’d always known her to be undeniably pretty, of course, but she was even more beautiful like this—without make-up, underdressed, just woken, on a bed they shared for the night.

“Robin,” he sighed, not sure what he wanted to say but definitely intent on saying something. He felt excited now for all the good ways this would change their partnership. More of the mind-blowing sex, surely, but all the other bits, too.

He knew at last that he was ready—even eager—for all the rest of it.

He could not miss the change in her expression, the way he’d been staring straight into her eyes. She shifted her eyes to look away from his, saw the look of uncertainty, her mouth gaping, a correction, clarification at the tip of her tongue,

“Wh—” he started. But a phone alarm went off and Robin had pulled away to turn it off.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Maybe this'll be all there is, maybe there'll be more. Who knows?


End file.
